A stubbed or broken toe hits the door
before it can slam shut on the foot itself.
My heart is a bad metaphor for my heart.
There is a cartload of trash, picked very
carefully from the grocery shelves, un
eaten, unwatched, unintended, waiting by
the car to be unlocked and therefore
useful. The user is a shatterer of con
text. Pro texts are validated and they
should not remain parked here more
than a hundred years. After that
little eon, forgetting takes over
and delivers geology to biology.
Sports and their children hanker
for cantankerous competitions,
starlit only up to the point that
the players burn out their sun.
It's a soft ending, when the very
earth undertows and undergoes
its rending, spending the moon
light flagrantly, fouling out of the
system well before the solar clock
blows its fusion. Hesitation will
get you everything in this cosmos.
Recitation will repeat itself until
your mind is bound with the staples
of ten thousand horses, curved aluminum,
ram horning itself through paper resistance.
Glass can melt again at the cataclysmic signal,
spending itself down to sand. One way doors
reject one way mirrors. A window, a handle,
and a hammer walk into a bar. The hammer
is the only one that walks out. The handle
never leaves. The window still reveals
everything on the other side
of this hazy place.
Roman Ryan 